Carbs…come to mama.
Friday, April 8th, 2011It’s race eve. That can only mean one thing. “Mangia! Mangia!” (“Eat! Eat!”) as my Italian-speaking great grandma used to say as she encouraged us to – why not – eat a loaf of Italian bread. For a snack.
As obscenely delightful as that sounds, I’m practicing restraint in preparation for tomorrow’s Inaugural Summerlin Half Marathon by Desert Sky Adventures. I happily eat pasta several nights a week. Linguini…tortellini…rigatoni…gnocchi…fusili. If it ends in an “i” – well heck, I’ll have thirds. As pedestrian as all things macaroni can get around here, there’s just something magical about boiling the water for race eve pasta. I looked forward to it all day.
Tonight’s main course is bowtie pasta. Farfalle if you want to be fancy about it. I’m a sucker for symbolism, so it’s only fitting that I carb load while writing on the topic…careful not to splash on my white MacBook. I don’t typically require a salad with pasta, but a leafy green creation complete with my special occasion $6.99/jar calamata olives seemed needed tonight. And for fun, a Longboard Island Lager handcrafted in Kona, Hawaii. The Surgeon General’s label warns pregnant women and drivers to sip with caution. No footnote to half marathoners. Bottoms up.
If you’re wondering, I’m stopping at “firsts.” No seconds or thirds for bib #280. I don’t want to be thinking, “Does this water bottle make my butt look big?” as I line up exactly 12 hours from now.
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